Tuesday, December 3, 2013

Stories # 66 - 69: "Making A List," "Checking It Twice," "He's Gonna Find Out," "Naughty Or Nice"


For the past hour or so, I've been making a detailed list of all the things I'd like to do to you for everything you've done to me. One of my favorite ideas involves a curling iron and an inflatable raft. Another good one I thought up requires the services of a witch doctor and $563 in unmarked bills. My least favorite, but likely the most practical of the lot, can be accomplished with a few simple keystrokes and an abundance of malicious intent. I haven't decided yet how to proceed, but when I do you'll know it. And, if I am successful, you will never recover. They say that no good deed goes unpunished, but I am of the opinion that bad deeds inflicted should also be reciprocated. Some call it revenge, others justice. I call it a Tuesday, and a happy one at that. Get ready…


"Hurry up, we don't have all day!"  I hate it when people rush me and hate it even more when I am the one rushing someone else, but in this case it can't be helped. There's a deal to be gotten, and I plan on getting it.

"What's the big rush? We're just gonna have to wait in line like everybody else till they open the doors."  He obviously didn't get it.

"You obviously don't get it,"  I say.  "We have to be among the first hundred people in line to even qualify for the extra forty percent off on the swing set."

"Where are we going to put a swing set anyway, hon? We live on the fourth floor of our building. We don't even have a balcony!"

I rolled my eyes at him dramatically. "That's not the point!"  Men! Ugh!

"Okay, I was just checking. Incidentally, what is the point?"

"Duh! That we get a good deal on the swing set."  I sigh loudly for good measure.

"Which we have nowhere to put. Logically."  I know he didn't just say that to me!

"Just shut up and go warm up the car!"  I don't normally talk to my husband so harshly – well, at least not daily – but it's the holiday season, and all bets are off.

He trudges huffily toward the stairs as I lock up behind us. He pauses on the second step, and turns to look up at me.

"Can I just ask you one more question?"  He says this like he needs my permission. I have him trained well.

"Yes, if you'll make it snappy."

"Aren't swing sets for little kids?"

"Duh!"  I can't help the sarcasm. We are falling out of the first one hundred even as we speak.

"Okay, just checking. But, hon, you know we don't have any kids." Thank you, Captain Obvious!

"Well, it's not like we're never gonna. We just haven't gotten around to it yet."  I roll my eyes at him again, because it makes me feel superior. Because, basically, I am.

"But, hon, we're in our sixties. That ship has long since sailed."

"Well…"  It's not often he renders me speechless.

"Well, what?"

"I'll tell you on the way to the toy store. Now, go!"

Without another question, he goes. Everything doesn't have to make sense. But saving money always does. And, dagnabbit, we will!


Dear Lucie,
I hope you are well. I'm sorry it's been so long since I've written, but I have been far too busy with things that I foolishly considered more important than keeping in touch with my only sister. Are you and Jakob still dating? I remember you telling me when we last spoke that you could see forever in his eyes, and you were just waiting to hear a certain question. Have you heard it? Has he asked it? I hope he has, and you have, and that you said yes, because as you know I only want the best for you. However, I think it's only fair to Jakob that he knows everything about you. Not all your deepest, darkest secrets – not yet at least. But I think you should definitely tell him about – well, you know. I know, for all intents and purposes, you think of yourself as a woman, and Mom and Dad have come to accept it, and of course I have always supported you. But Jakob needs to know before things progress too far that you have only been a woman for four years. It's hard for me to even think of you as Luke anymore, so complete has your transformation become. I know it will be hard for you to tell him, and yes, there is some degree of risk involved. But, Sis, if he is the right person for you, it will be worth taking that risk. He's going to find out one way or the other (don't worry, I would never tell him – it's not my place to), but I don't think you want to wait until after you're already married. Think about it, and let me know what you decide and how it goes. I love you, Sis.
Your #1 bro,


I don't think I'll be getting any presents for Christmas this year. I'm afraid, despite my meager efforts at doing so, that I didn't meet Santa's strict requirements for niceness. I cut off a few too many people in traffic, and yelled at a few too many folks for doing the same to me. I didn't get charged for that six-pack of Pepsis or that bucket of cat litter, and I knew it, but I didn't say anything. I spoke unkindly about the President, though I was complimentary of his lovely wife. I didn't work as hard at accomplishing any task I undertook as I should have or could have, and I frankly didn't feel too bad about that. I took out the trash and washed the dishes and did the laundry as often as was necessary, but I frequently had a bad attitude about it. I wished that terrible things would happen to certain annoying pop stars, and I wasn't too unhappy when they did happen. Put simply, I was naughty this year. And I know he was watching. I know he's disappointed in me. I can't say as I disagree with him. If it's true that you reap what you sow, then I deserve to reap nothing at all this year. I probably should write Santa a letter, for old time's sake, and detail all my shortcomings (this was just a sampling), and hope he'll give me another chance next year. I think he will. After all, he's Santa Claus. He basically has to. That's his job. Right?

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